


Let it Be

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Allergic reaction, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Papa!gil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: The team gives chase after the brother of a man found climbing a Manhattan high-rise. One of them walks away with something more than they bargained for.For Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt Allergic Reaction.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Comments: 6
Kudos: 101
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Let it Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Machancheese](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machancheese/gifts).



Chasing a suspect through the woods in Croton-On-Hudson, the team was running at him from multiple angles. JT from the right, blocking his exit back toward the road. Dani from the left, blocking escape toward the river. Gil from the rear, trying to keep overall view of the situation and communicate with the team. And Malcolm, feet blazing straight for the guy.

Gil couldn’t even blame this situation on an unheeded “wait in the car.” They all had approached the house to talk to Myer Weathers about his brother, Jonah, who had been found suction cupped to a high-rise in Manhattan, higher to the sky than the ground, closer to dead than alive. They discovered that unable to travel due to medical hardship was something closer to evading the police when he took off out the back door without answering, starting the pursuit.

Leaves crunched under their feet, some of them two weeks into drying out, some of them fresh with the fiery reds, oranges, and yellows of fall. They dodged fallen branches, weaved around trees, kept rushing as if he’d eventually tire himself out. Apparently athleticism ran in the family.

This was one of those times Malcolm wished he wasn’t in a suit. His smooth soles slid against the leaves, his trousers and jacket pulling in all the wrong places. His shirt lifted out of his waistband and gave him a bit more mobility. His jacket flew behind him like a cape.

Drawing from his daily routine and hopped up on adrenaline, Malcolm was fastest. Though Myer was beating him on knowledge of the terrain, Malcolm was gaining ground when he was able to keep it under his feet. Past an oak and around a maple, he was within reaching distance by an elm.

Malcolm lunged forward, arms grabbing for Myer’s sweatshirt and shoulder tackling him to the ground. Their momentum kept them rolling on backs and hips until Malcolm landed in guard, controlling Myer with his feet. Dani, JT, and Gil crowded in, guns focused, and Myer finally put his hands in the air.

JT got him cuffed, and Gil extended a hand to help Malcolm up. “You don’t want to touch me right now,” Malcolm declined, pushing to his feet himself.

Dani and Gil exchanged glances over him, trying to interpret the statement.

Through the trail of disturbed leaves their tussling had left behind were bright crimson and rust shines in clumps of three. A virulent carpet he had been laying in. “Anyone have a quarter?” Malcolm asked with a trademark smirk. “Poison ivy gets me blistery.”

“In the car,” Gil replied.

Malcolm pointed where JT was headed away with Myer. “You’re not going to want him in your car unless you want poison ivy oil there forever.”

“JT, hold up,” Gil shouted across the woods and started toward him. They were going to need to wait for local backup so they could get Myer cleaned up as well.

“Thought you were _The Flash_ ,” Dani teased Malcolm, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“If I was, I’d be whipped out of these clothes already.” He had his jacket in hand and was working on his shirt buttons.

Dani raised her eyebrows and nodded her head toward the ground.

“I’m pretty allergic to the oil. Gonna hurry back to the car so I can hop in the campground shower.”

“I’ll get you the quarter,” Dani replied, jogging alongside him.

* * *

A trip to the pharmacy for Dawn and calamine lotion and multiple washes later, Malcom emerged in Gil’s sweatpants and t-shirt from the go bag in his trunk - a kid in his dad’s oversized clothing. Malcolm’s clothes were stuffed into a plastic bag, the remaining supplies Gil had retrieved for him in his hands.

Some of the pink lotion peeked out above the neck of the t-shirt, with a companion stripe on one of his hands. “Let’s go home,” Malcolm commented, moving to drop the contaminated pile into the trunk.

“You okay, kid?” Gil asked, looking over the skin he could see.

“Fine.” It wasn’t like the time he’d inhaled it at a scene, had his throat slam shut, and landed in the hospital. Or the time he’d gotten bubbles on his ankles after the kids told him he needed to be the one to get the kickball out of the brush.

“You look like you got into your pops’ closest,” JT ribbed, taking the front seat.

“I kinda did,” Malcolm replied, taking the seat behind him.

“You’re more… _Droopy, Master Detective_ now,” Dani poked, sitting beside Malcolm.

“Okay, children,” Gil chided, starting the car. But the words were more joining in playing with the team than corrective; he couldn’t have asked for a better outcome when it came to their interconnectedness.

They had a long ride back to catch up to the brother turned suspect.

* * *

In interrogation, Myer looked spotless. “Product of those woods,” he had proudly proclaimed. “Could roll in that stuff all day.”

Yet Malcolm’s itch had extended from his hand, up toward his elbow; from his throat, up into his beard. He’d changed into a backup suit from his locker, forgoing the jacket so he could roll up his sleeve.

“Stop touching it.” Gil pulled his hand away from below his ear. “Go wash your hands - you’re gonna get it everywhere.”

Gil stayed behind the two-way mirror, watching JT and Dani get an earful from Myer. They were behind the glass because Myer had laughed at Malcolm’s rash, his presence only leading to distraction.

Where had the suction cups come from? “Powr-Grips,” Myer had corrected.

Why that building? “It was a basic trad route. Those money-grabbers are idiots.”

Why was Myer alive and Jonah in the ICU near death? “Got tired of listening to him complain his way was the right way. He picked the wrong window and didn’t give enough pumps for the grip to hold.”

Malcolm returned from the bathroom, a fresh coat of pink turning him toward Picasso. “It’s like you got attacked with a Pepto-Bismol paintbrush,” Gil added his own version of a joke.

“Except it makes me wanna scratch my skin off,” Malcolm complained.

“You _can_ go home,” he pointed out.

Malcolm scoffed, “One does not go home for poison ivy.”

“You could.” Gil amended, “ _Bright_ doesn’t go home for anything less than near death.”

Malcolm shrugged. The itch was annoying, not work-threatening.

Gil motioned at the glass that separated them from the action. “This is pretty much done anyway. Two idiots were trying to make a statement.”

“I think it’s pretty cool, actually.” At Gil’s eyebrow raise, Malcolm added, “The let’s climb a building and hang a banner part, not the let’s leave my brother to die part.”

“You would. Don’t get any ideas,” Gil warned. He could only imagine the worry from _that_ phone call. Never mind the blowback.

Malcolm brought his hand toward his face again, and Gil grabbed his elbow. “Let it be.”

“That’s the advice for _before_ you roll through the poison ivy patch.”

Gil glared, not letting go of his arm.

“Yes, _dad_.” Malcolm rolled his eyes, and they finished watching the conversation on the other side of the glass.

* * *

_fic_


End file.
